The Memory Tree

by Linda Gillard

  ‘You remember?’

  ‘Everything, I believe. Too much.’

  ‘Did something happen? They told me you were writing a letter to Ivy and were suddenly overcome. They assumed it was memories of being in battle. No one said—’

  ‘I haven’t told anyone. They don’t know that everything has come back.’

  ‘Everything?’

  ‘I gave you my love letters in the wood. They were written in pencil inside the seed packets you sent me for my trench garden. I believe I sent you a sketch?’

  ‘I still have it.’

  ‘I wanted to write to you, but I knew it would be very wrong, so I allowed myself the pleasure of writing letters, but I spared you the shame of receiving them. What happened to them? The seed packets?’

  ‘When I’d finally given up hope of your ever coming home, I put them in the Trysting Tree.’

  ‘Crescent illae crescetis amores.’

  ‘So it was you!’

  ‘I carved that on the bark before I left for France. I didn’t expect to return, but I knew the tree would flourish, if not our love. How did you hide the packets in the tree?’

  ‘I put them in a tin and dropped it into a hole, high up.’

  He nodded, almost imperceptibly. ‘I know the one. But how did you get up there? Did you take a ladder?’

  ‘I stood on the swing.’

  ‘Ah, I’d forgotten that . . . And they’re still there, my letters?’

  ‘Yes.’ She looked down at her hands and the ruined gloves they held. ‘We’d had no news of you, William. And there was no body to bury. It was my way of commemorating your death and . . . our love. The Trysting Tree seemed to me the right place. The only place. I could come and pretend it was your final resting place. I thought, if you could have chosen, that’s where you would have liked to be buried.’

  ‘You know me well, Hester. I often thought of that wood when I was in France. After I came home, I stood beneath the Trysting Tree many times, but I didn’t remember its significance. Not until the other day.’ As he reached across the eiderdown, Hester leaned forward and took his hand in both of hers. ‘Why didn’t you tell me what I meant to you?’

  ‘I wanted to but I didn’t know how. And then I didn’t know if I should. When you first came back to Beechgrave, I waited for your memory to return naturally. I thought being at home again, working in the garden, would have a restorative effect. It seemed safest just to wait. If your mind had chosen to forget the past, I assumed reminding you of it, of what you’d suffered, would be very painful for you, dangerous even. Months later, when it seemed clear you wouldn’t regain your memory, I could see no point in telling you what you’d once felt for me. If you no longer felt the same way, talking about the past would only lead to embarrassment and . . . and a sense of obligation. You weren’t the same man.’

  ‘But you felt the same way? About me?’

  ‘Of course. I was the same woman.’

  With some difficulty, he swivelled his head round and looked into her eyes. ‘Do you still, Hester?’

  ‘My feelings haven’t changed since the day you left Beechgrave. Even before that. I didn’t realise it at the time, but I think I probably fell in love with you at the Victoria Rooms in Bristol, in 1914.’ She paused to see if he would remember.

  ‘Women’s suffrage.’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘We attended a talk. With Violet. You were there with a friend, but as I recall, you’d lied to your mother about the nature of the talk. I think I gave you a leaflet . . . I don’t remember why.’

  ‘I’d told her I was going to a talk given by the National Geographical Society. You gave me a leaflet about a talk you’d recently attended, so I’d be able to mention a few convincing details. I was so grateful – and the collusion was such fun!’

  William smiled. ‘I was delighted to be of assistance. I didn’t love you then, but I wanted to help you. To protect you. You seemed in need of protection.’

  ‘Oh, I just needed work! And a better education. I was thrilled to be allowed to share your books. I realised if I’d been a man I might have wanted to become a scientist or a doctor. I really enjoyed running a convalescent home. I’ve never been so tired in my life, nor so happy. I knew you were alive and safe – from the war, at least – and I had a real sense of purpose for the first time in my life.’

  ‘You should have married, Hester, and had a family.’

  ‘I didn’t marry, but I had a family. You, Violet and Ivy were my family.’

  ‘That’s hardly the same.’

  ‘Perhaps not, but after the war women had to learn to live without marriage, live without men. I think we made a pretty good job of it under the circumstances. In the end, we shamed them into giving us the vote.’

  William’s wheezy chuckle gave way to a violent cough. Unable to suppress the fit, he waved Hester away and turned to face the wall. The nurse appeared and announced that Mr Hatherwick was tired and Hester should leave.

  Standing at the end of the bed, gazing helplessly at William’s prostrated form, Hester said goodbye, but he gave no indication he’d heard.

  As she walked along a chilly corridor that smelled of death and disinfectant, Hester decided she wouldn’t tell William about Ivy. His mind was already overwrought and the doctor had said complete rest was essential if, in his debilitated state, he was to survive the onslaught of his memories and an overwhelming sense of loss.

  There was no way of knowing how William would respond to the news that his beloved niece was in fact his daughter. Such a revelation might overturn a healthy man’s mind and William was very ill, probably dying. The question was, what was best for him? And what was best for Ivy?

  Hester decided she would wait, wait until she felt certain that disclosure would be in both Ivy’s and William’s best interests, or until she had no choice but to tell him the truth.

  She did not have to wait long, but before Hester could speak to William, she had to write to their daughter.

  Wisteria Cottage

  October 6th

  My dearest Ivy,

  I’m afraid I have some bad news for you, but not the worst. Uncle William’s condition is no better. He has deteriorated to such an extent that I think you’d better come home as soon as you can. I haven’t discussed this with him because I know he wouldn’t want you to interrupt your studies. In any case, I don’t think he realises how ill he is and I don’t propose to tell him.

  His doctor at the sanatorium has said we should prepare for the worst, but of course William could yet rally. There is always hope! He’s in good spirits on the whole, but in very poor health, so I feel I have no alternative but to summon you. I cannot bear the thought that you and he might not see each other again.

  I’ve written to your Principal to explain the situation. I told her William has been as good as a father to you, so at this time your place is at his bedside. It will do him so much good to see you, Ivy. You are always such a tonic!

  Hurry home, my dear, so we can all be together again.

  All love,

  Hester

  When Hester arrived, Matron advised against a visit as William’s condition was now critical. Hester said that was why it was essential she speak to him. She declined to discuss the matter in any detail, but when Matron enquired whether the conversation would lead to any agitation in the patient, Hester lied and said it would not. She was permitted to see him on condition that she keep her visit as brief as possible.

  The sight of William lying wasted in the hospital bed, looking so much worse, came as a shock. The urge to keep her secret, to let him die in peaceful ignorance of her deception was overwhelming, but then his eyes flickered open and he attempted a smile. In the dying light from those hollow eyes Hester thought she saw the ghost of their daughter. She knew then that even if the knowledge hastened his death, William must be told he had a child.

  She pulled up a chair and sat close to the bed. He was too weak even to lift a hand to take hers,
so she took one of his, lifted it to her lips and kissed it.

  ‘How are you today, my love?’

  ‘Oh, I live the life of a log, but I’m holding on.’

  ‘Good. I’m so glad, because I have some news for you.’

  ‘Good news?’

  ‘Very surprising news. You’ll be shocked to hear it, but I think you’ll consider it good news when you’ve had time to take it all in. At least, I hope you will,’ she added nervously.

  ‘Does this news concern you?’

  ‘In a way, but really I want to talk to you about Ivy.’

  He looked concerned. ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘No, she’s very well. In fact, she’s coming home very soon.’

  William closed his eyes. ‘So they’ve told you I’m dying.’

  ‘No, they’ve said you’re very ill – but we both know you have the constitution of an ox!’

  He opened his eyes again and frowned. ‘Then why is Ivy coming home?’

  ‘That’s what I want to talk to you about, but they’ve told me I mustn’t stay long, so please forgive me if I come straight to the point.’ She sat back, arranged her hands in her lap, then looked up into William’s enquiring eyes. ‘You told me you remember our last meeting in the wood, before you went away to France.’

  ‘Indeed I do.’

  ‘And you remember what happened? Exactly what happened?’ He nodded. Hester took a deep breath and said, ‘I have to tell you now, William, that what we did that day had far-reaching consequences.’

  His long, thin fingers clutched at the bedclothes. ‘There was a child?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And it died?’

  ‘No. Violet’s child died. She had a daughter who lived for only a few hours.’

  ‘But I don’t understand . . . Ivy—’

  ‘She’s your daughter. Our daughter. And that’s why I’ve asked her to come home. You must spend some time with her knowing . . . who she is.’

  When he was finally able to speak, William whispered, ‘Does she know?’

  ‘No. She was told what you were told. The story Violet and I concocted between us.’

  ‘And she’s coming to see me? Soon?’

  ‘Tomorrow, I hope, if you’re well enough. The college has granted her leave of absence.’

  ‘Ivy is my daughter . . .’ A slow smile began to spread across his emaciated face and then he began to laugh, tentatively, in happy disbelief, until the wracking cough took over.

  Hester waited, dreading the appearance of a nurse who would order her to leave. When the fit had passed, she leaned forward, saying, ‘I have a request to make, William. You will find it very hard to grant, but please, hear me out before you decide what to do. When you do decide, I beg you to put our daughter’s welfare first.’ She took his hand again and pressed it to her cheek. ‘I’m asking you to greet Ivy and talk to her as her uncle. Don’t tell her about her parentage.’

  ‘I don’t understand. If you didn’t want her to know, why did you tell me?’

  ‘Because you had a right to know.’

  ‘And Ivy doesn’t?’

  ‘She doesn’t need to know now.’

  He swallowed and, struggling visibly with his emotions, said, ‘Hester, do you know what you’re asking of me?’

  ‘Yes, I do. She’s my child too and I haven’t acknowledged her as mine for seventeen years.’

  ‘Was it the shame of being unmarried?’

  She sighed. ‘It was a lot of things. We’d had to assume you were dead. My mother was still alive and I couldn’t foist public shame on her. After losing a husband and two sons, her sanity hung by a thread. I had no one else to turn to for advice or support, there was only Violet. She’d confided in me when she found she was expecting. In fact, it wasn’t until she described her symptoms that I realised I was too. I thought I was just ill. So I told Violet we were in the same boat and that you were my baby’s father. She was very surprised, but also very pleased and she agreed to help me.’

  ‘Dear old Vi . . . No man ever had a more loyal and loving sister.’

  ‘And no woman a more loyal and loving friend,’ Hester replied. ‘She helped me shut up most of the house and then I dismissed all the servants. Violet came up to live at Beechgrave and looked after my mother, but after she lost her baby, we decided it would be better for everyone if she pretended to be the mother of mine. I would later adopt her and raise her myself. That seemed less scandalous. I didn’t want my sins to be visited upon our child.’

  ‘Was Vi with you when Ivy was born?’

  ‘Yes. I was naturally very frightened, but Violet knew what to do. She was a great comfort. I knew nothing at all about babies, but she did.’

  ‘Our mother had five. Only Violet and I survived childhood.’

  ‘Once you’d been found, I hoped we’d be able to marry one day and acknowledge Ivy as our child. Who was there to care if I was making an unsuitable marriage? People already believed I was as mad as my mother, adopting a servant’s child as a substitute for marriage and motherhood. After the war, I didn’t care what people thought! But you didn’t remember me, let alone Ivy’s conception, so there seemed little point in telling you the truth. Or telling Ivy. So I said nothing. I don’t know if that was the right decision, but in seventeen years no one has suffered from my deception.’

  ‘Apart from you.’

  Hester sat in silence, her head bowed. Eventually she looked up and said, ‘We don’t have much time. A nurse might come in at any moment and send me away . . . I chose not to acknowledge my child and now I’m asking you to do the same. Ivy loves you. I don’t believe she could love you more. But you could turn her world upside down – and mine, because Ivy’s world is mine.’

  ‘So I’m never to be acknowledged as her father?’

  ‘She’ll need time, William. I need time.’

  ‘And mine is running out.’

  ‘If your memory hadn’t returned, you would never have known. You would have died in ignorance – and perhaps that would have been better, better for you. But your memory did return. And now you might die . . .’ Her eyes began to fill with tears. ‘How could I keep silent? After all these years of silence!’ she added fiercely.

  ‘No, you had to tell me, I see that. And I’m very glad to know our love resulted in that wonderful child. She’s so like you, Hester. I never saw it before, but I can see it now. She reminds me of you when you were young, when you used to ask so many questions and complain you weren’t allowed to arrange your own flowers. Ivy has that same quality of . . . indignation. She wants a fairer world and she’s prepared to fight for it, isn’t she?’

  Hester smiled. ‘We have every reason to be proud of our daughter.’

  ‘And I’m so proud of her mother – how you managed on your own and took care of Vi.’

  ‘No, she looked after Ivy and me. And my mother. She was wonderful.’

  ‘I wish I’d been there to support you.’

  ‘Never mind,’ she said, squeezing his hand. ‘You came home to us, that’s the main thing.’

  ‘So you’ll tell Ivy about me . . . one day?’

  ‘Of course I will. But I don’t know when. It will be hard enough losing you so soon after I found you again – the real you, William. Allow me to deal with that before I have to confront Ivy with seventeen years of deceit and dissimulation.’

  ‘She might not see it like that.’

  ‘I don’t want to take the risk. Not yet.’

  William was thoughtful for a moment, then said, ‘I think I’d like to write her a letter.’

  ‘But, William—’

  ‘One for you to give her after I’ve gone. Whenever you see fit. If I can’t speak to her as her father, I’d like to write to her.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’ll bring you some notepaper. Or would you like to dictate it to me? You shouldn’t tire yourself.’

  ‘No, I’ll try to write to her myself. I’d like her to have something from me, something more than t
hose old gardening books.’

  ‘She’ll treasure them, as I treasured them when you went off to war – and for the same reason, William. Ivy and I love you.’

  He patted her hand and looked away. ‘You’ll give her my letter then . . . ? When the time seems right?’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He closed his eyes and sighed. ‘Oh, Hester, I’m so tired . . . You’ve given me a great deal to think about and I must sleep on it.’ He opened his eyes and looked at her anxiously. ‘You’ll come again tomorrow?’

  ‘Of course. Tomorrow and every day.’

  ‘I don’t think I shall be troubling you much longer. The nurses have stopped nagging me to eat and drink. In fact, they’re being especially kind to me now. That doesn’t bode well, does it?’ he said with a crooked smile.

  Hester swallowed a sob. ‘Don’t let’s part speaking of death! We’ve had the gift of another day, another conversation together. I’m sure we shall have another tomorrow,’ she added, unable to keep the note of doubt out of her voice.

  ‘Let’s hope so,’ he replied, reaching for her hand. ‘Goodbye, Hester. I’m so glad you found me. If I still believed in God, I’d thank him for letting me find you, even if it was seventeen years too late.’

  ‘They weren’t wasted years, William. In all that time you’ve been my dearest friend – and more, though you didn’t know it. Your friendship was more than I dreamed of when you went off to the Somme, more than I dreamed of when Violet got the telegram telling her you were missing in action. We have so much to be grateful for! We have each other now and we have Ivy. We couldn’t really ask for more, could we?’

  William didn’t respond at once, but appeared to consider her words, before saying, ‘When he felt particularly pressed, when there was just too much to do in the garden, my father used to complain about “the smallness of time”. That’s what I’d ask for, Hester. More time. Time to enjoy our blessings.’ Unable to reply, she gripped his thin, frail hand and he closed his eyes again. ‘You’ll look after her, won’t you – my splendid daughter. Does she take after me, do you think?’